


Kiss of Death

by Torytigress92



Series: A Match Made In Hel: the Dark Lokane Collection [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - Fandom, Thor: The Dark World - Fandom
Genre: Character Development, Crossover, Death Metaphors, Elisabeth das Musical AU, Everybody's human and nobody's perfect, F/M, Ignores MCU after Thor: the Dark World, Implied Infant Death, Jane goes a little power-crazy, Jane is not the best mother, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, magical freakery, tw: discussions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torytigress92/pseuds/Torytigress92
Summary: AU from Thor: the Dark World onwards. Inspired by Elisabeth das Musical. Death was turning out to be a very odd experience for Loki of Asgard. But her new life as Queen of Asgard is turning out to be even odder for Jane Foster, as she fights for respect and power, all the while being haunted by a familiar, supposedly dead, trickster Prince.





	Kiss of Death

Kiss of Death

Warnings: Character deaths, violence, suicide and discussion thereof, some mild language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, its associated characters used in this fan fiction, or Elisabeth, from which musical this fan fiction takes its inspiration.

* * *

 

Death was turning out to be a very odd experience for Loki of Asgard. After what had happened, he’d expected to awaken in Valhalla, or at least to see one of the Valkyries standing before him, a slender hand outstretched in welcome. He had died a warrior’s death after all.

Instead, he’d closed his eyes to Thor’s heartbroken visage and opened them to a world draped in cold mist. He could see nothing and hear nothing, not even the thunder of his own heartbeat. As he’d spun, looking for something, some movement, some noise to indicate what he must do, where he should go, there was nothing.

For a dark moment, he’d considered he had been sent to Helheim, that black realm that the mortals believed his daughter ruled over. Loki had no children, had never taken a wife to father any, and had always been careful to avoid any claim on him by a lover. The mortals’ fanciful tales about him had only fuelled his contempt for them and their culture.

At last, after what felt like hours of looking vainly through the mist, Loki had found a strange archway, stretching up into the thick mist above him, a ragged yet impenetrable veil fluttering in an unseen, unfelt breeze. Every muscle in his body strained towards it, yet his mind was awash with repulsion as he looked at it. He was torn in two by the compulsion to walk through that dark arch and yet something within him whispered: not yet.

Not yet, indeed, Loki of Asgard. You are needed yet, and you have much to atone for. Yes, you will do very well…

Later, Loki would not remember the words that, at that moment, shivered through his consciousness. They were spoken so powerfully that Loki felt himself quail, his very soul trembling in fear and shame, as if the owner of the voice had seen into the depths of his inner self; and seen every sin, every dark thought, every black deed he’d ever wrought in his destructive rage and arrogance.

With a sense of desolation, he’d watched as the archway and veil vanished from sight and then he had fallen, for how long and how far he’d had little knowledge, until he was dumped rather unceremoniously in his new existence, without guidance or company.

* * *

 

It had been a rather rude awakening, to suddenly appear on a blood-soaked battlefield in front of a fallen warrior who was staring up at him in fear and confusion, dressed in garments not his own, and to move towards the warrior without taking in his surroundings. The words had appeared in his mind and the compulsion to speak them had been too strong to deny. Before he known it, he had moved towards the fallen warrior, taken his hand and said, “It is over now, my friend. The time has come.”

And with that, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the warrior’s mouth, chaste and quick. When he opened his eyes and stood straight, he had pulled the warrior upright and they looked down together at the bloodied corpse before them. All around them, the battle raged on, one in an unknown realm Loki deduced since he did not recognise his surroundings or the weapons and armour of the warriors around him.

“What should I do? Where do I go?” the warrior asked, his voice resigned and with an undertone of joy. “Do I go to see my Darla? Will I see her again?”

Loki hadn’t a clue who this Darla was or where the warrior was to go, but the words sprang to mind once more. “If you take a walk, you will soon find out. Go.”

Loki watched the warrior walk away, a frown on his face as he considered his new existence and the strange events that had landed him here. It was not long before the compulsion pulled him from his thoughts and towards the body of another fallen warrior.

After that, Loki had quickly discovered the duties and the limitations of his new ‘existence’. He felt no hunger, no fatigue, he could go anywhere he wished when the compulsion to seek out the dying did not take him, and he was invisible to all eyes if he wished it. Not even Heimdall could see him. He could not change his attire, simple black garments of similar cut and style to those he’d worn before, in leather. His magic was gone, beyond his apparent ability to appear anywhere he wished with just a thought, his invisibility and his kiss of death.

When and if the compulsion took him, he had to go wherever in the Universe he was needed, to the side of a dying soul. He had no choice; it did not even enter his head to attempt to resist, despite himself. He guessed that there had to be others like him, but he never met any other like him, nor saw any in his travels. And he travelled far and wide, now he had both time and ability to do so after so long imprisoned in his cell.

In his wanderings, he began to ponder if this was some kind of penance for his life. And yet he railed at the idea. He had done nothing more than fulfil what was expected of him! He was born to be a King!

And now, he was a guide of the dying. Oh, how far he’d fallen! If it weren’t for the compulsion set upon him, he’d have disappeared off to the darkest, most solitary corner of the Universe and damn his new charges to Helheim. He was a prince, not a dog to come at others’ calling.

He had no idea why he had been cursed as he was, no guidance, no clue how to get out of his new mundane existence. The expressions of fear and awe on the faces of the dying had long become old and boring, without relish, for him now.

So he wasn’t surprised when his wanderings appeared to take him back, finally, to Asgard. He’d avoided the place like the plague, not wanting to see his brother triumphant or the mourning of the people for his mother. He supposed it was inevitable that curiosity, and the odd masochism he’d always had, had drawn him back again, to witness Thor’s triumph.

He’d have expected to find Thor gone, his place as heir relinquished for that silly little mortal, Jane Foster. So he was surprised, when he materialised, to find said mortal wandering the gardens of the palace, gowned in gold and scarlet, her hair tumbling down her back in soft caramel waves. He watched her dispassionately for a moment, pondering her continued presence in the face of the All-Father’s disapproval, no doubt.

She was beautiful; there was no doubt of that. She was shorter and slighter than Asgardian women, her frame missing the wiry muscle of Sif, or the willowy strength of Frigga, but there was a kind of strength in her dark eyes, an insufferable stubbornness that ran bone-deep. He supposed only such intractability had prevented her from giving in to the pull of the Aether. But now she appeared pensive, uncertain, as she walked, glancing continuously towards the great pillared hall of Gladsheim in the distance.

He noted it with interest, before leaving her there in the gardens, re-appearing in the ancient hall with a shudder of remembrance. How many times had he been summoned here, for punishment or, rarely, for praise?

It looked no different from the last time he’d stood there, before the throne of the All-Father. No doubt, the damage caused by the invasion of the Dark Elves had been repaired. But the décor was not what held his interest, as raised voices reached his ears.

Thor was pacing before the throne and the All-Father sat watching him, an unrelenting glare in his single eye. For one tense moment, Loki feared that eye had fastened on him, tearing through whatever magic shrouded him from the sight of mortals, but his gaze moved on without recognition.

Thor didn’t even notice his sire’s disapproval, or maybe he no longer cared. Loki fastened on to his words with mischievous interest. “If I cannot have Jane as my Queen, then I will have none,” he was saying angrily. “Surely by now, she has proven herself worthy of the Apples of Idunn? After all she has suffered and triumphed over?”

“She is a mortal, and a commoner at that,” the All-Father retorted sharply. “She has no idea of duty, of what it means to be Queen. She does not belong here.”

“I want her here!” Thor insisted firmly, finally standing and facing down his father determinedly. Loki had never seen his brother so disrespectful of the All-Father before, and it was both amusing and infuriating. What had that mortal woman done to him that Loki had failed in all their years together? “What she does not know, she can learn. She is fearless and strong-willed. She may not be a warrior, but she is strong and intelligent. She…reminds me of Mother, sometimes.”

The All-Father sighed. Loki stared at him for his next words. “And if I do not grant your wish, you will leave Asgard?”

“I do not want to be a King, but you have told me I must, that Asgard will descend into civil war if I do not take my place. I must do my duty but,” Thor paused, his eyes softer now, losing their stormy determination. “Father, please give us your blessing. You know better than most that men like us need a woman at our side. That we cannot function as Kings without them.”

“You would be better served bestowing your hand elsewhere,” the All-Father replied sternly. Loki knew he was thinking of Sif, that he’d long had designs upon the shield maiden for Thor’s Queen, a design Sif was in full concordance with. It would be interesting to observe the fierce warrior-maiden in her disappointment and how she acted around the future Queen of Asgard. Then the All-Father sighed, as something in him seemed to give way, and he nodded. “Very well. Your ultimatum has left me with little choice. Take the mortal as your Queen. You have my permission, if not my blessing. Go.”

“Thank you, Father. You will not regret my choice, I promise you,” Thor bowed deeply, before walking away with a sad smile. Loki watched him go before staring at his foster parent incredulously. The All-Father must be getting weak, to give in so easily.

A mischievous smile lit Loki’s pale features, as he turned away to follow Thor. _Well, this is going to be interesting…_

* * *

 

The hall of Gladsheim was full to the brim on the day of Thor’s wedding. Crowds of citizens, all brightly dressed and all rather inebriated, awaited the first glimpse of their new Queen. Einherjar stood at intervals all around the hall, grim and deadly in their golden armour. Loki stood upon the very top dais, unseen and unheard, watching the expressions of the more important guests with interest.

Most of the dignitaries from the farthest corners of the Realm Eternal looked expectant, though not in any good way. They looked like they were there to witness an execution, or a public flogging. No doubt, they shared the All-Father’s view on humans.

The dignitaries from the other Realms all looked curious and hopeful beneath their bored, courtiers’ masks. With the rise of Midgard as a force to be reckoned with, no doubt they hoped a Midgardian Queen would be an advantage to them in future negotiations on their relationship with the Realm Eternal. The other Realms longed to be free of the yolk of Asgard, even if they still needed its protection. A few years ago, before Loki’s fall from grace, there had been talk of a new treaty between Asgard and the Realms, to lessen its power but the All-Father had stamped upon it without mercy. He had no intention of diminishing the empire his father had left to his care, changing universe or no.

As for his former associates, they were a study in contradictions. Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg all looked pleased and proud for their friend, but their eyes betrayed them to Loki’s perceptive gaze. They were worried and not a little incredulous, that a son of the Realm Eternal, its future ruler no less, should wed a mortal!

As for Sif…Loki was rather glad he was invisible. Her face was like a gathering storm as she flicked hurt, angry glances at her Prince. No doubt, she was feeling the slight of centuries of comradeship and devotion, to be put aside for a mortal woman Thor had known for a handful of days. She was dressed in her armour, her hair tightly held in a tail.

As for Thor, he was the most interesting of all. He was smiling but pale and his eyes were worried, bereft of their usual benign gleam. It seemed he was not as certain of his choice, now it came down to it, as he’d declared to the All-Father. Mjolnir was at his belt, and his scarlet cloak swept around him like a river of blood. Behind him stood the All-Father, grim and silent, in his golden armour, Gungnir in one hand.

* * *

 

All of a sudden, Loki felt the pull of his curse, tugging on his attention. Turning his gaze inward, he was shocked to see he was exactly where he needed to be. Someone would die today, on Asgard, during this wedding ceremony.

He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who.

  
The murmuring of the crowds abruptly ceased and Loki spun to see the mortal herself, Jane Foster, gowned in vivid blue and silver, finely wrought bracers and pauldrons at her wrists and shoulders. Her dark hair was swept up into an intricate knot, and silver ornaments dripped from her ears and throat. She was beautiful, stunning even, in the sea of golden-haired Aesir, but she was still out-of-place, like a sparrow amidst a flock of eagles. How could this child hope to fulfil her duties as a Queen of Asgard?

It was the question that hovered in every guest’s minds, Loki not the least. He could see it in the Warriors Three and Sif, in the All-Father and even in Thor, a shadow of doubt in his eyes but then Jane was upon him too quickly, and Loki watched him as he forced it away with a joyous smile.

With a cold shudder, Loki realised his premonition had been all too accurate. As if guided by some unseen power, his head was tilted upwards and he saw the bowman hidden in the shadows of the rafters. With a shock, Loki recognised the rune on the man’s bracer, one that granted invisibility to its wearer. Only a handful of people had the knowledge to shield themselves from Heimdall’s sight, Loki among them. How did a common assassin come across that knowledge?

What did he care? So what if the silly mortal woman was killed this day? He would fulfil his duty and that would be that. Thor would mourn, and then move on to a more suitable consort, probably Sif, and the Universe would not mourn the death of one little human astrophysicist with delusions of grandeur.

As Loki looked to the All-Father, as he pronounced the vows that would bind Jane and Thor together, he had a sudden feeling he knew exactly how and where the assassin acquired the knowledge to shield himself from Heimdall’s sight. Was Odin truly so determined to order things to his design, that he would commit murder? With a shudder, Loki remembered his own life, the cold, callous way the All-Father had set out to manipulate both him and Jotunheim, and then punished him for rebelling. He would have left one he had once called son to an eternity in a cell, bereft of freedom or solace. If it hadn’t been for Frigga, it would have been the executioner’s block and not a cell. Anything to cover his failure with so-called justice.

And now again.

For the first time in his life, Loki felt a sense of outrage for another fill him. As much as he doubted the astrophysicist’s ability to fulfil her duties as Queen, he’d had enough of the All-Father’s meddling. It had destroyed more than one life before; he would not let it do so again.

But when he tried to move, to appear on the rafter where the assassin perched, awaiting his chance, he found he could not. He was frozen, as the ceremony progressed, and the moment approached.

Just as Jane was to take the Apple, gleaming golden and warm on its pillow, the assassin struck. An arrow flew from its string, hitting Jane in the shoulder. The injury would not be fatal, but the poison coating the arrowhead would be.

To her credit, Jane did not cry out as the arrow embedded itself in her flesh, but she fell to her knees, her hand instinctively flying to the wound. Chaos erupted, the All-Father shouting for calm and for the Einherjar to pursue and capture the villain who had shot at the future Queen, as Thor bent over his fallen bride fearfully.

Loki approached, passing through all of them like smoke, seeing only Jane as she lay, pale and unmoving, and he felt her heartbeat slow, weakening to the point of failure as the poison took its quick, lethal toll. She would die, here and now, and there was nothing he could do.

But as he knelt down beside her, taking a hold of her neck, feeling the softness of her hair under his fingers, the human warmth of her skin and the scent of lilies and rosewater rising to his senses, he felt a fierce defiance take hold of him. The compulsion to take her soul had him bending his mouth to hers, but he stopped, fighting it determinedly. If only to spite the All-Father, he would not take Jane Foster’s soul. He would not…

He was frozen and unmoving when Jane’s eyes opened, tear-filled and pained, as he felt his dead heart thrill to the look in them. She was stubborn and the poison was nothing compared to the insidious pain of the Aether. Their lips were only centimetres apart and he could feel her warmth calling for him, as intense lust washed over him, for her mouth, for her body, to take that stubbornness, that will to survive in her eyes, and absorb it into himself.

Jane’s eyes looked up and into his, and she saw him. Not as a fallen soul, awaiting collection, but she saw him before her. Her lips formed two syllables, too weak to be heard except by Loki and Jane herself. “Loki…” she sighed, as she lost consciousness again. Loki felt the pain of the compulsion lift and he stared at her in shock. She had been the first he had been able to resist and as he lifted her into his arms, he reflected wryly that of course it would be her.

Later, Thor would remember carrying Jane to her chambers to rest, but it was Loki who carried her, her soft human warmth in his arms as he laid her down on her bed in the opulent room. He ignored Thor’s hovering, the All-Father’s insincere concern as he waited for the death pang but Loki knew she would not die now. Jane Foster was stubborn; she would hold back Death, for now.

And she would remember him. Even if only as a half-fevered dream, she would remember him.

Loki felt a vicious smile cross his features as he glanced up to the All-Father, as disappointment filtered into his ancient gaze, as the healers staunched the wound and neutralised what was left of the poison. Jane lay in a deep sleep the entire time, and as his gaze returned to her slumbering form, Loki felt something dark take hold of him.

He had never understood his brother’s obsession with Midgard but now he was seeing the attraction. He longed for her warmth, he wanted to feel her soul become his as he pressed his kiss of death on her lips, and he realised he wanted her to want it too. He wanted her to choose him over life, over Thor, over being Queen and being as close to immortal as it was possible to come. He, Loki of Asgard, wanted her.

And one way or another, eventually he would have her. He was her destiny, her final destination. He would have her, one day, and he would make sure she wanted no one else. Who cared about the All-Father’s machinations, or Thor, or the Nine Realms? Having felt her human warmth, her fragile beauty, he wanted it now for himself. He was obsessed, and he would never leave her side from this day on.

* * *

 

The past few weeks had been a blur for Jane Foster, formerly of Midgard. Finding the Aether, defeating Malekith, waiting for Thor to return only to be taken to Asgard as his future Queen, nearly dying on her own wedding day and the long fortnight of recovery before the healers pronounced her healthy again…it was enough to make the astrophysicist’s impressive brain spin in dizzy circles.

But as she let herself be whirled around in Fandral’s arms, sharing a dance she’d only learned the day before at the coronation feast, feeling Thor’s proud, loving gaze on her as they danced, her mind was a million miles away from where it should be. She was now the Queen of Asgard, elevated to a new plane of existence, with a five thousand year lifespan ahead of her, in which to explore the universe and to discover its secrets.

She had no doubt Thor would continue to let her carry on her research. Earth science might be somewhat behind Asgard’s, but she couldn’t wait to learn and so factor in the new theorems into her own research. There was so much to discover…

But at that moment, her mind wasn’t on her research or on Thor. It was on the fevered recollections of a long-dead, dark-haired trickster who’d appeared as she lay wounded in Gladsheim, during their first, aborted, wedding and coronation.

How could she have seen him? He was dead, wasn’t he? It couldn’t have been him; it had to have been the poison making her delirious.

* * *

 

Her dance with Fandral came to an abrupt stop and she looked up, to smile graciously and curtsey. But her smile froze when she saw the strange way Fandral was unmoving, as if frozen himself. As she looked around in alarm, she noticed that every single one of the guests was frozen, some in the most hilarious positions as they bent to pick up a goblet of wine, or with food raised to their mouths. She spun around, looking desperately for Thor but he was as frozen as the others, in the act of laughing with Volstagg and Sif. Jane tried to ignore the warm look in Thor’s eyes as he looked on his oldest friend, reminding herself he had chosen her, not Sif, but her insecurities were quickly pushed aside when she felt the temperature plummet and she turned, to find an achingly familiar figure watching her from the other side of the hall.

“You’ll never be her match, you know,” he called tauntingly, as Jane watched, entranced as he slowly prowled down the steps towards her. He was clothed in a long black leather coat, like the one she’d seen him in when they first met, but there was no armour, no flash of emerald green to relieve the oppressive, if exquisitely tailored, black garments. His shoulder-length hair was lustrous and shining, and he looked in the picture of health despite his pallor. His dark eyes watched her with casual cruelty, and a deep longing that tugged at something in Jane, as his words sank in. “I’m impressed Thor had the spine to defy the All-Father so well, but it will only be a matter of time. More binds them than it does you.”

“You’re dead, you’re not really here,” she replied blankly, refusing to let his barbs hit their targets. She’d always had her suspicions about Sif and Thor, but the fact that he chose her, over the shieldmaiden, kept her strong.

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” the spectre in front of her replied amusedly. “I am most certainly dead, but I am very much here. Your eyes do not deceive you, Jane Foster.”

Jane had not realised she was moving until she was barely a foot away from him. “Why were you there?” she breathed, as his face became carefully blank. “When I was shot, you were there. You were going to…”

“Kiss you?” Loki finished for her, as a deep blush appeared on her cheeks and she looked outraged at her careless words. He could tell she hadn’t meant to reveal exactly how much she remembered. “I was indeed.”

“Why?” she breathed. She gasped as Loki’s arm suddenly came around her waist, sweeping her into a dance she felt was far too intimate, their bodies pressed close together. Whereas before she’d felt clumsy and ungraceful, even in Thor’s arms, in Loki’s they swept across the floor as gracefully as two birds in flight.

“You made a mistake coming here, Jane,” he whispered evasively. “You are not wanted and you do not belong here.”

“I’d say Thor doesn’t agree with you,” she replied coolly, concealing her hurt.

“It is not Thor you need worry about,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You have more enemies than friends here, Jane Foster. You are no Queen, and everyone here believes that to be true. They will pressure you and bully you into becoming what they believe you should be. You will be as trapped as a bird in a gilded cage, and when you try to defy them, to escape, they will try to destroy you permanently. They almost succeeded once.”

Jane’s eyes flickered to the frozen figure of the All-Father, her suspicions rising to the fore, not noticing the satisfied look in her captor’s eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked suspiciously. “Don’t you want me to fail, like the rest of them?”

“I spent a considerable amount of energy keeping you alive, Jane Foster,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Even to the extent that I lost my own life. It seemed such a shame to let all that hard work go to waste before your time.”

Jane sensed the evasion and rolled her eyes as they revolved slowly around the floor, weaving in and out of the frozen guests. The feasting hall had turned into a chamber of shadows, chilling Jane to her very core, but she could not tear her eyes away from the inhuman creature whom held her captive, body and mind. He had been beautiful in life, in a cold, dark way, so very different to the golden Thor. But now his beauty took on a fey, wild quality and it called to her. Despite herself, Jane was fascinated and had no intention of pulling away from him.

“I could stop it, you know,” he murmured suddenly, abruptly making her focus . He leaned in so their breath mingled together. Something wild and fierce in Jane cried out in denial, even as she found herself yearning for his kiss. “End your suffering before it begins. Save you from the darkness, the shadows that are lengthening over your life. All it would take is a kiss.”

“And why would you do that?” she asked, uneasy. Loki’s cruelly sensual features transformed into an appreciative smirk as she continued. “You hate me and my race. We stopped you from ruling Earth. Why would you want to ‘save me’?”

“So you don’t dispute that you need saving?” he quipped, as her jaw firmed and she glowered at him. He chuckled as he drew her closer, running his hand down her spine seductively. “It is very simple, Jane Foster. I don’t know why or how I came to be in this new…existence of mine but I am certain of one thing. You are mine, and whether it is this very moment, or next year, or in a thousand years, you will succumb to me. I am your final destiny, you cannot escape it. Not even Aesir can escape Death, and neither will you, my little bird.”

Jane felt a thrill of fear through her icy blood at his words, and she snapped out of her fascination with a shiver. She backed out of his arms, defiance warring with longing in her eyes, ignoring his outstretched hands, his falsely pleading eyes. “I am not yours. I don’t belong to anyone,” she snapped angrily.

Loki smiled as his form slowly turned transparent, as warmth began to return to the hall and the guests suddenly moved as if they’d never been frozen at all. Jane didn’t feel Thor’s arms as they came around her, asking what was wrong, nor see the half-pitying, half-contemptuous glances of the wedding guests. She heard only Loki’s mocking, sensuous voice as she watched his feline smile fade away. “We will see, my little bird. We will see.”

* * *

 

The All-Father sat in his chambers, kept company only by his ravens, Huginn and Muninn. He was not pleased.

Thor’s defiance and manipulation had angered him, certainly, but he had taken it as a hopeful sign that his son was finally discovering the political ingenuity needed to be a King. His continued insistence on taking the mortal for his bride, however, continued to irk him. Her survival of the assassination he had so carefully arranged for her, the recovery from the poison, and her now Aesir status almost made him incandescent with rage. Mortals did not belong on Asgard; they were insolent children who refused to be led, who knew not and understood even less of the mysteries of Yggdrasil, and they did not belong in the hallowed halls of the Realm Eternal.

He did not know who to blame for Thor’s sudden streak of defiance. His poor, deceased, beloved wife, maybe. Loki’s influence over the years, most definitely. The insidious poison of that mortal woman’s voice, assuredly.

She would destroy the Realm, and she would destroy Thor, if he did not do something.

Another assassination would be too risky now, with the mortal’s new status. His son was not so unintelligent that he would not think it suspicious, especially knowing of his sire’s disapproval towards the match. No, he had to be far more subtle.

His adopted son had not learned cunning just at his mother’s knee. The All-Father had the perfect scheme to show Thor the unsuitability of Jane Foster and to demoralise the mortal even more. With luck and subtlety, she would want to return to Earth of her own accord and he could dispose of her there with impunity. And if she did not, if by some miracle, she proved resilient enough to prove herself as Queen, then…he would ensure she was exactly the Queen Asgard wanted.

Which was why he’d sent for her. The Lady Fjorgyn, his beloved Frigga’s mother.

Now old even by Aesir standards, she had successfully broken in her once wayward and wild daughter to become the perfect Queen for Asgard’s needs. If anyone could train an uncultured, unrefined mortal to be Queen, it would be her. And if she could not…then all to the good.

Lady Fjorgyn was in complete agreement with him. To her, a mortal was utterly unsuitable for the role of Queen. She would train her, or she would break her. The All-Father had little doubt it would be the latter outcome.

* * *

 

Loki stood, shrouded in shadow, as he listened to the All-Father plot and scheme. A satisfied smile lit his features as he considered the likelihood that this would push Jane into his arms and into oblivion, particularly when he knew that respect for Frigga’s memory would render Thor powerless. Jane would go to him for help, and she would receive none. For his part, Loki had always hated the old bat and wondered how she could possibly have been related to his mother.

He watched over the preceding days when Lady Fjorgyn arrived in a swirl of aquamarine silks and flashing, cold grey eyes. She descended on Jane with all the mercilessness of a trained warrior, looking over her with a condescending eye. He felt a smidgen of pity as she polished and buffed Jane for hours, curling her hair and piling it high, decking her out in jewels and vibrant silks that suited her not one jot. He watched hour after stultifying hour of lessons on deportment, on speaking as Fjorgyn tried to eliminate Jane’s American accent in favour of an Aesir one. She was forced to learn to ride, to learn an instrument, to abandon her fascination and study of the stars for learning to dance, learning diplomacy and good manners. He almost felt sorry for her.

Jane, of course, had no say in anything. She’d been hoping to continue her research, maybe even with the help of some of Asgard’s scientists to help her fill out the gaps in her knowledge and understanding. But she was rebuffed at every turn; told, as respectfully as they could manage now she was Queen, that she simply didn’t have the time to dedicate herself properly to the study of Asgardian science. Instead, she had to endure hours of listening to lectures on proper behaviour, on deportment and soft speaking, on the correct manners and the hierarchical difference between a lord from Alfheim and a prince from Nornheim. She’d had to take thinly-veiled comments on her height and lack of muscle, on her darker looks and skin, on her ‘exotic’ features. Finally, she’d exploded after a comment about her physical inability to bear a proper heir and that at least her beauty made up for it, somehow.

She’d given the Lady Fjorgyn a piece of her mind, introducing her for the first time to the enlightenments of feminism. She’d been laughed at, half in horror, half in derision. Lady Fjorgyn thought her a stupid, air-headed mortal without a single clue of what it took to be Queen. After that, Jane had sent her away with a cold authority that the haughty Vanir had no choice but to obey, secretly impressed and insulted by the unlooked-for strength in the mortal woman.

She’d run to Thor after that, finding him only just finished with training for the day, and made her complaints. It had turned into their first marital argument as Jane argued against the need for coaching and that she could carry on her research as well, while Thor, his mind poisoned by the subtle whisperings of the All-Father and the court, replied that it was useful and necessary for Jane to learn about Aesir ways and how to be Queen. Jane had refused to give in, when finally Thor had snapped at her that she should respect the memory of his mother in listening to his grandmother, and she’d run away from him. She’d refused to cry until she made her bedchamber, ordering she wasn’t to be disturbed, Lady Fjorgyn or not.

Loki watched their quarrel, saw the guilt in Thor’s eyes as he realised his mistake, before he turned to follow Jane to her rooms. He watched her crying on her bed, and felt a surge of pity. How many times had he been sent to his rooms, crying, because he could not fulfil the expectations placed upon him during his childhood? At least he’d been born a Prince, Jane had no such advantage.

He reminded himself of his goal, as he sat on the bed beside Jane, silently comforting her, unseen.

* * *

 

Loki’s words, his predictions about Thor, were all coming true for Jane. Their brief encounter at her wedding feast whirled in her mind, as she lay on her bed and cried, letting herself feel the exhaustion that had been torturing her for weeks. Her room was cold, as cold as the feasting hall when Loki had appeared and stopped Time. She had a feeling he was there, watching her, probably gloating over his victory.

The fairytale ending she’d let herself be lulled into had come crashing down. Asgard was not what she’d thought it be, Thor was not entirely who she’d believed he was. She loved him, immensely, but the gentleness and the humility she’d once seen in him was slowly being replaced by duty and a cold sternness. He was turning into his father, but as she lay there, Jane came to a decision as realisation dawned in her mind.

Asgard was a Realm caught in Time, like a fly in amber. It was backwards, for all its technological and scientific prowess. It would not survive unless it learned to progress, to see the truth of the universe and not just how they wanted it to be.

She would not turn into Frigga. She would not become the Queen they wanted her to become. Despair had hold of her for the moment, but she refused to give in to it. She would re-take control of her life, one way or another. She had to be patient, hide her true emotions behind a mask, but she could do it. She was Queen of Asgard now; she couldn’t go back to who she used to be and what she once was. But Jane Foster the astrophysicist would not be crushed beneath Jane, Queen of Asgard. She would beat them all, every one of them who wanted her to fail, Loki included.

She would prove them all wrong, and then she would have her freedom. She belonged to no one but herself.

So that night, when Thor came to her with flowers and apologies, she accepted them graciously. The next day, at a feast to welcome dignitaries from Alfheim and Nornheim, Jane was poised and perfect, did not put a foot wrong to the disappointment of the All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn, and the pride of Thor. And so it continued, Jane learning to use her ‘exotic’ beauty to her advantage and slowly winning over her critics, especially when it became known she was pregnant.

And all the time, she felt him watching her, from the shadows. Always from the shadows.

Loki continued to watch her, over the years. Oh, he always went to fulfil his duties when the compulsion took him, and never again did he feel the same defiance take hold of him. He never spared another soul after Jane Foster.

To all the Realms, after a rocky start the new Midgardian Queen had become a model of beauty and poise. The All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn had retreated on that front, defeated at least, but they soon took control over Jane’s children. She bore Thor two children in quick succession after her resolution to beat her detractors, a boy and a girl. They’d been taken from her soon after their birth, to be raised in the proper Asgardian way. Thor had accepted it as safer to be raised away from the court; Jane saw it for what it was, an attempt to prevent any of her silly, Midgardian ways from infecting the young Aesir heirs. She never even got to hold them, let alone name them. They’d been given proper Aesir names, according to Lady Fjorgyn, and that had been that.

Times were growing dangerous in the Nine Realms. The strength and standing of the Earth, the young Queen’s birthplace, was only growing and the other Realms were growing bolder in their desire to be free of the political rule of Asgard. An aim the young Queen, it was rumoured, fully supported.

Jane had all but withdrawn emotionally from Thor. He was not the man she’d married, he was not the man she’d saved in the deserts of New Mexico, all those years ago, and disappointment was a bitter sting in her chest as the strain of ruling and living up to his father’s expectations of him took over. Her standing in the court had risen with her delivery of two children, one a boy, and her beauty gave her an influence she was still learning to exploit.

Mortals were still forbidden on Asgard. If Thor wished to see his friends on Earth, he occasionally ventured down to the planet, but such visits had decreased dramatically over time. Jane had not seen her mentor, Erik, or her friends for some years due to the hectic schedule she was restrained by. But Jane was working to repeal some of the more repressive laws of Asgard and she was dining with the ambassadors from Alfheim, Nornheim and Vanaheim that night to discuss strategy.

* * *

 

Finally, for the first time in several years, Loki decided to break his silence.

“My, my, my we have done well, haven’t we?”

The words, delivered in a silken, sensuous drawl, had Jane tensing in front of her mirror as she made sure she looked her best. As annoying as it was to be seen as a beauty and not much else, she knew it was her main weapon and her best defence in a court that still laughed at her origins. She would hide her intelligence and more fool them if they still underestimated her.

And that included Loki. She’d sensed his presence, watching her, for years but had said nothing. She didn’t need rumours calling her crazy circulating the court. She could just imagine them: “Did you hear? The Queen reckons she saw and talked to the King’s dead, good-for-nothing brother! Ha, always knew she was mad!”

She refused to stop what she was doing, just for him. A Queen answered to no one. Before, she’d thought it was a flawed rule but it came in handy, now and then.

“So you do still exist? I almost thought I was going crazy,” she replied coolly. “What do you want, Loki?”

She felt him step up behind her, his icy hands brushing sensuously along her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her curled hair. “My offer still stands, Jane,” he whispered in her ear. “You will not find the freedom you seek like this. Your beauty and your intellect will give you power, but power will not buy you freedom.”

“How would you know? You achieved neither power nor freedom,” she snapped abruptly. She sensed his amused chuckle against her hair, and tried not to let it affect her as she felt his gaze on her lips desirously. “I won’t let you kiss me. I know that’ll kill me if I do.”

He continued watching her mouth and she could feel his lust burning her skin with cold, as she involuntarily imagined them together, lying entwined on her enormous, cold bed.

“On the contrary, I have discovered a freedom I had never experienced before,” he whispered. “It could be yours too, my lovely Jane.”

“How did you become…” she waved her hand at his reflection vaguely. “Like this? What are you?”

“I have absolutely no idea and I have discovered nothing in my travels. I assume there are others like me, but I have never seen them,” he answered truthfully enough. “I collect the souls of the dying to continue to whatever awaits us. I feel no pain, no fatigue, no hunger. I can render myself invisible at will and no door, no wall can keep me out. Call me what you will.”

“So why didn’t you collect mine?” Jane asked, bravely. She turned in his embrace, meeting his dark gaze head-on.

“I…couldn’t. Not you, not after everything that happened,” he replied stiltedly, and her face softened. She raised a hand to his cheek, shivering at his chill, as he cupped it against his face with one hand. “Come with me, Jane. Only sorrow, and disappointment, will you find here. You’ve already witnessed the fickleness of the Aesir, the slow corruption of your beloved Thor. Don’t let it take you too. Come with me, and be free.”

Jane shook her head slowly, before she turned away from Loki’s tempting mouth. There had been a frisson between them ever since they’d first met, all those years ago. He had saved her life so many times, and now she knew his whole story, she felt a painful compassion for him. It hadn’t justified his crimes, in her mind, but allowed her to see past them to understand him. But she wouldn’t take one gilded cage for another; she was too young to die, to just give up. Besides, her children needed her. She would get them back, one way or another.

As she turned back to him, he could see her stubbornness rising as her jaw firmed. “The only true freedom you’ll ever have is with me, Jane,” he told her warningly.

“I’ll make my own freedom, Loki,” she whispered. “Now, go.”

She had her own plans to attend to, to waste any more time on his scheming.

* * *

 

It had taken her a few months to work out how to get the help she needed. First, she needed to learn how to travel between the Realms without using the Bifrost. Heimdall was loyal to her and sympathetic to her plans but he was still bound by oath to Thor and the All-Father. She needed to come and go unnoticed. Next, she had to learn the science behind remaining invisible to Heimdall’s eye. It had taken time and subtlety but she was quickly finding she was getting too good at all this deceiving politician stuff. But at least the ends justified the means.

Jane had a plan, to regain her children, Thor’s trust and defeat her enemies in court in one sweep. And for that, she needed help.

She’d never ask Loki’s help, skilled manipulator though she knew he was. He’d ask a price she would not pay, and there were others who could help. Politics was politics, and manipulation was manipulation, whether on Asgard or on Earth. She’d never dreamt, as a young astrophysics student on Earth, that she’d ever have to learn either skill.

Luckily, she knew just the person to teach her. Darcy Lewis had made quite the career for herself, back on Earth after everything had settled down. She’d been elected first to the House of Representatives, and then to the Senate, three times holding the Foreign Affairs brief, before becoming a diplomat working for the UN in war zones and unstable regions all around the world.

It had taken more than a little trickery on her part to get her old intern and friend to Asgard, but she’d managed it in the end.

* * *

 

Darcy Lewis hadn’t seen Jane since she’d been swept off to Asgard by Thor. For the most part, she’d just got on with her life. She graduated university, threw herself into politics in the chaos caused by HYDRA and the fall of SHIELD, got married and divorced, punched out a couple of kids in the meantime. Her life was busy but full, and she was happy.

She hadn’t known what to expect when a hologram of Jane had appeared in her living room one evening, asking her to come to Asgard and be ready the next morning. A cloaked figure had seemingly stepped out of the air and held out a hand to her, and she’d gone, curious and desperate to see her old friend once more.

When she’d been led, after being forced to put on a bracelet inscribed with a strange rune, through the back passages of the palace and into a wide, cavernous chamber, she hadn’t known what to expect. She barely caught a glimpse of the breathtaking vistas of Asgard, her nameless guide had been so desperate to keep her moving.

At last, she’d been left alone, waiting expectantly. The chamber she was in was enormous, larger than anything she’d seen on Earth, richly furnished . Darcy sank down on one of the large, plush red sofas, her feet aching. She wasn’t as young as she once was.

Her first thought, at the sight of the woman who swept through the doors in a swirl of scarlet skirts, was that while she herself had aged, Jane hadn’t changed one bit.

On closer inspection, Darcy decided that wasn’t true. While the Apples of Idunn had only enhanced Jane’s beauty, there was sadness there now, and a disappointment in her eyes, like life hadn’t turned out like she’d hoped. She was dressed in a gown made of silk that would cost ten years of Darcy’s salary, and that didn’t include the gold and diamonds dripping from her hair, ears and throat. She looked like a Queen but not a happy one.

Her heart went out to her old friend and without thinking, Darcy rose from the sofa and rushed to embrace her old friend. Not entirely to her surprise, Jane stiffened for a moment before relaxing into her embrace. When they pulled apart, Jane’s amber eyes searched Darcy’s face, sadness in her eyes.

“You’ve grown up, Darcy,” she murmured. “You’ve done so well.”

“Not too bad yourself, Jane,” the technically younger girl laughed, to cover up her own sadness for her friend. “Or should I say ‘Your Majesty’?”

The smile fell from Jane’s face and she turned away abruptly. “Don’t,” she barked as she walked around Darcy and the sofas, collapsing into them with a sigh. Alarmed, Darcy sat opposite her.

“What’s wrong, Jane?” she asked bluntly. “I thought this was your fairytale.”

“Well, fairy tales don’t always turn out the way they’re supposed to, and then they don’t always suit everyone. Funny, I always wondered as a kid what happened after ‘and they lived happily ever after’. Now I know,” Jane replied, her proud head slumping in exhaustion. “I made a mistake, Darcy, and not one I can undo.”

“You’re not happy here?” the younger woman asked, frowning. “Couldn’t you just divorce Thor and come home?”

“Divorce doesn’t exist on Asgard, Darcy,” Jane smiled. “And even if I could, there’s no taking back my extended lifespan. I’m not sure I’d even be permitted to go home.”

“Well, if you’re not asking me to get you a divorce lawyer, why don’t you tell me what’s going on and why you’ve suddenly contacted me after twenty years of nada?” Darcy prompted her, gently.

And Jane told her. She told her about her life on Asgard, about the All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn, about the assassination, about Thor’s neglect and expectations of her, about losing her children and the contempt of the court towards her. She’d never realised how much she had held in during those long years of loneliness and frustration, but once she started, she couldn’t stop talking. Darcy listened, patient and silent, so very different from the impatient, talkative young woman Jane remembered. By the time she’d finished, the sun was setting and Darcy was pacing the floor of the chamber thoughtfully.

“And you’re thinking, that if you manage to negotiate some kind of separation treaty between the other Realms and Asgard, you’ll gain their respect? Their loyalty?” she mused. “It could work. If nothing else, it’ll show you as a figure to be reckoned with. It might attract the wrong type of attention too though, Jane. You’ve already been targeted once.”

“I know that!” Jane snapped impatiently. “But if I can become powerful enough, I can have my freedom back. Thor will respect me again, the All-Father will have to give me back my children and I can get rid of Lady Fjorgyn once and for all. And it’s the right thing to do. The time of empires is over.”

“How very democratic of you,” Darcy smiled wryly. She grew serious, looking at her old friend intently. “This’ll be risky, Jane. Politics always is.”

“That’s why I wanted your help, Darcy,” Jane replied with a small twinkle returning to her eyes. “Nothing but the best.”

Darcy laughed. “We’ll make a politician and a diplomat out of you in no time!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Companionable silence fell between them for a little while, before Jane stirred and turned to her old friend.

“How’s Erik?” she asked desperately. Darcy’s face fell a little, and she sighed.

“Not too good. He’s still working, still teaching the last time we spoke. But he’s not well, Jane,” she replied honestly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jane asked, alarmed. Darcy shrugged.

“Old age. It comes to all of us,” she said wryly, gesturing at the slowly emerging wrinkles on her own features. “Well, some of us anyway.”

* * *

 

With Darcy’s guidance, Jane learned quickly how to manipulate emotions and public opinion, how to spot weaknesses and deceptions, how to play one opponent off against another. She was proving to be an apt pupil despite the awkwardness and anxiety that used to plague her in the past. Her plans would take a lot of work; delicate, fiddly work but after years spent in academic exile in the deserts of New Mexico, Jane knew how to be patient. She knew how to keep going, to not even think of giving up. Darcy was a kind but firm teacher, and Jane wasn’t surprised when, after five years of meeting in secret, she told her that she’d retired from the diplomatic life to become a lecturer in Politics and IR at Oxford. “Kind of miss the US, but England is ok,” she’d shrugged with a laugh. “Particularly all my cute but oh-so-naïve male grad students who think they‘re going to save the world. Like Iron Man, but in a suit,” she’d added jokingly.

However one day, Darcy had come with downcast eyes, red from crying, and pale features, and Jane knew. Erik had finally passed away, from a long-term heart condition. Their lesson had been abandoned for the day, and Darcy and Jane had wept together in each other’s arms for their old friend and mentor. Jane felt the burn of resentment that stupid, archaic rules had kept her from her surrogate father’s side for so long, and now she’d never see him again.

* * *

 

Later, when Darcy was safely back on Earth, Jane had sat herself down in front of her mirror in her dressing room and stayed there, in the dark, simply waiting.

She knew he’d come eventually.

She felt his presence like a sudden shock of cold water, as slender, pale hands curled over her shoulders. “You didn’t take him, did you?” she asked. It had been one of her fears when Darcy had told her about Erik’s passing. That Loki, Erik’s onetime tormentor, had appeared to take his soul.

“No,” he murmured. “I felt his passing, but I was not summoned to collect his soul.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief, her spine unfreezing as she slumped back into him. She wondered when exactly she’d stopped viewing him as an enemy and an annoyance. Over the years, he’d turned into a friend almost. No, friend wasn’t the right word; not with his continuous offers to take her with him and attempts at seducing her into it. A comfort maybe, in her lonely hours, and a challenge. Their tète-a-tètes always left her mind feeling stimulated and there were times she almost longed for his company after long, boring hours spent sitting at Thor’s side in Gladsheim.

“I’m glad of that, at least,” she replied softly. “I don’t think he could have handled seeing you again.”

She felt his chuckle but she couldn’t find it in herself to laugh. She was so tired after all these years of plotting and scheming while playing the devoted, perfect Aesir Queen. She was lucky Aesir children took so long to grow up, since it had been at least seven years since she’d seen them last.

She could feel Loki’s soft caresses over the bare skin of her shoulders and neck, and they stopped feeling so cold and instead felt soothing, calming the shudders which still had hold of her after hours of crying into Darcy’s shoulder. “You could come with me now,” he murmured, and she sighed, closing her eyes, suddenly angry that he’d disturbed their peace with this, again.

“Please, Loki. Stop it,” she whispered, tiredly.

“Never,” he vowed against her ear, bending his head to her neck, pressing a kiss to her pulse. “You have no idea. There is something coming, I can feel it. It could cost you more than you ever thought possible. Come with me, before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jane replied, closing her eyes as her head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. Loki’s hands left her shoulders and pressed gently on her temples, taking the sting from the pain. His final, soft words as she fell into a deep sleep echoed through her dreams.

“You’re a fool, Jane Foster. My Jane…”

* * *

 

Loki’s ‘something is coming’ turned out to be a plague, the likes of which no one had ever seen before. It struck indiscriminately across the Nine Realms, even Earth. The death tolls were catastrophic and Asgard’s healers were helpless.

To protect her, Thor had sent Jane and a small retinue to the mountains. Despite her desire to stay behind and help where she could, for the first time in years, Jane felt a softening of her heart at the desperation in Thor’s blue eyes, as he’d kissed her goodbye.

In a small hunting lodge, Jane awaited news. She was going insane with boredom, alone in the mountains, but she had nowhere else to go. It seemed the disease spread quickest in highly populated areas, as few had fallen sick in the rural areas of Asgard.

* * *

 

Then one day, Jane felt a chill pass over her spine and she knew. She just knew someone she loved had died. She hoped it wasn’t Thor, or Darcy, or one of the children. Oh, she hoped.

She hoped in vain.

* * *

 

She fled to her room when the message came, informing her that the little princess had succumbed to the disease. The person awaiting her there was the last one she wanted to see.

“Please….” She began, tremblingly. “Please tell me you didn’t take her. Please say you didn’t take my little girl away from me..!?”

But she could see from his eyes, overflowing with pity and regret, more sincere than she’d ever seen them, that her worst fears were realised. She flew at him, striking him in a rage. “NO! You murderer, murderer! I’ll never forgive you for this!”

He said nothing, did nothing but hold her as she weakened, finally slumping into his arms in defeat. Her tears fell hot and fast, as she cried for the little girl she hadn’t seen since her birth, for the hugs that would never be, for the laughter and the tantrums and the lessons she would never see, the young woman she would never now know. She felt his hand in her hair, stroking softly, dislodging contemptuously the ornaments clinging to her locks. “Jane, my Jane,” he whispered, over and over again, soft as a lullaby. Eventually, she calmed, her grief cried out for now. “She suffered very little, in the end. I did not prolong her death.”

Jane had heard of the agony caused by the disease, had seen the fevered eyes of the sick in the city, and was suddenly glad of it. At least she did not suffer, at least…

Suspicious, she looked up at him through narrow, bloodshot eyes. “Are you lying to appease me?” she asked bluntly, but his features remained the same as he shook his head. Satisfied he was sincere, she rested in his arms.

It was nearly sunset when Jane at last stirred. “I never got to hold her,” she whispered. “The All-Father wouldn’t allow it. He kept me from my children when they needed me the most. I hate him.”

“He is a man of the old times, of the old ways,” Loki replied. “And he will drag Thor down with him, through filial duty and expectation.”

“Thor…” Jane began, roused by some lingering loyalty to defend her husband.

“Thor has already proved he cannot and will not defend you,” Loki interrupted her abruptly. “Not now. The King of Asgard does not love Jane Foster. He loves only the mask you’ve hidden behind for so long, the mask he let the All-Father and Fjorgyn force you into.”

“How were she and Frigga ever related?” Jane asked, exhausted. Loki chuckled.

“There were times when I asked myself the same question, my love,” he whispered. Jane tensed at the endearment.

“Don’t call me that,” she commanded sternly, as Loki tensed, glaring down at her.

“Now of all times, you must know what I feel, Jane. I love you and you are my final destiny, as I am yours. Accept it!” he replied harshly. His lips were only inches from her own.

Somehow Jane found the strength to push his arms away and stand, walking away from him dismissively. He caught her in an iron grip, his arms around her waist as his mouth trailed down her yielding neck. “Do you remember?” he asked in a soft, warning whisper. “Do you remember when we danced together at your wedding feast? The way you trembled in my arms, the way I trembled at your touch? You need me, my love. Oh, you need me. I am your only sanity in an insane world, the only thing you lean towards in a universe which would devour you whole. Let me comfort you, let me love you.”

“I don’t love you,” she objected, her voice weak and shaking. Despite the iciness of his touch, he was so close and her grief demanded an outlet. And she wanted him, had always wanted him, it seemed. But she did not love him.

“You love me more than the King who waits for you back in the city. You love me more than the man who threw you to the wolves of the court,” he retorted cruelly. Jane wanted to scream at him, but her voice had died down into a moan as his hands trailed down her body. “You will always need me, my love. This universe is dying, don’t hold onto it. It was in its evening before your day began.”

“You know who created this plague, don’t you?” she gasped, as he pulled the sleeves of her gown down, his lips following a winding, torturous trail down her back as he held her so lovingly, so worshipfully. She was turned in his grasp so she looked down at him, her hands entangled in his soft, silky hair.

“I know,” he whispered. “It is but a first step in his plans. To weaken the resistance to his conquest. This universe has not long to live, Jane. The Nine Realms are fracturing. Don’t let yourself be caught up in it, save yourself the agony and come with me.”

“I can’t,” Jane breathed through airless lungs, as Loki pressed a kiss to her stomach, through the folds of silk bunched around her waist. With a sigh and a groan, he pulled her down into his arms, setting his lips to her neck. Jane lost herself in a sea of icy pleasure, hard limbs holding her down as her body bucked and writhed in mindless, ecstasy. Their lips never met, although Loki tried, but Jane always found the strength to turn her head from his.

It was imperfect, rough and so unlike the touch of Thor, but in it Jane found a kind of freedom, at last.

* * *

 

Eventually Jane returned to the court, deep in mourning for all those they’d lost during the pestilence. Jane felt a small surge of vindictive pride that Earth doctors had identified and developed a cure, not the vaunted Asgardian healers. Earth’s status in the Universe was only rising and she was both amused and angered to see the sheer incredulity in the faces of the Aesir as they discussed this latest development in intergalactic relations.

Jane was relieved to hear that Darcy, though fallen ill, had survived, as had her two children. Others she had known were not so lucky.

Volstagg, that merry giant who could always make her laugh, had perished alongside his young family. Jane had comforted Thor as best she could on her return, taking him into her arms and into her bed for the first time in years.

Unfortunately, neither the All-Father nor Lady Fjorgyn had succumbed to the plague. Their ancient visages were among the first things Jane saw when she dismounted from her horse and into Thor’s welcoming arms. As she stared at them with veiled antipathy, she was pleased to see the high-and-mighty Lady tremble a little at her imperious look. The All-Father barely glanced at her.

When she discovered she was pregnant, again, she decided now was the time to do something about it. She summoned Fandral, who had become something of a chamberlain to her over the years, and bade him summon Thor, the All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn to her. When he returned with them, she kept him by her side, sure that as one of the foremost gossips in the court, Fandral could be relied upon to relate the story to the courtiers.

“I have come to a decision,” she began, imperiously, just as both Lady Fjorgyn and Darcy had taught her. “And it has to do both with the terrible plague that has hurt our people and the fact that I am pregnant.”

Thor looked overjoyed, as he started towards Jane to kiss her, but she stopped him with a cold look and an upraised hand. She looked to the All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn, who both concealed their unease under pleased masks. She wasn’t fooled anymore.

“Which has led me to consider the state of my household,” she started again. “After this testing time, I have decided I shall take charge of my son’s education and care.”

The All-Father exploded at this, while Lady Fjorgyn looked outraged. Jane continued speaking through their spluttered, incensed protests.

“After the death of his sister, he needs his family, his mother. Not faceless strangers who see only a crown when they look at him,” she stated firmly. “My child, when he or she is born, will remain with me here. Your…assistance is no longer needed, my Lady Fjorgyn. You are released back to your home. I’m sure that Vanaheim will be relieved to have such a capable manager back where she is most needed. Also, I am inviting Darcy Lewis and her children to Asgard, to recuperate here with me.”

They appealed to Thor, in vain. He was staring at his wife in awe and unease, as she cut through every protest mercilessly, with a power and an unassailable command that he’d never dreamed existed in her.

Finally, she turned to him as Lady Fjorgyn appealed to him one last time, stating Jane’s inexperience and incompetence to raise an heir to the Asgardian throne and spluttering at the thought of more humans on Asgard, and looked at him through cold, unforgiving eyes. “You let them take my children from me, and now our daughter is dead,” she said, simply. She saw Thor wince and she almost softened, but she knew she could not. She was so close to her goal, and so much faster than she’d planned. She had to keep going. “I had to endure months of torture and insults from this woman in respect for your mother’s memory. But I’ve at last accepted what I am. I am the Queen, and they will not rule us anymore. It’s time to choose, Thor. Your father and grandmother, or me. Which will you choose? To be your own man and master, or their lapdog for the rest of eternity?” she finished bluntly.

“Jane…” Thor started, weakly, but she held up an imperious hand. The two elders watched them in resigned horror, Jane’s queenly voice pronouncing their ultimate defeat and doom. They had lost, both control of her and of Thor.

“Choose, Thor.”

Thor sighed, before glancing to his father and grandmother, as if helpless before the unspoken power and confidence of his wife. “My wife and Queen have spoken. Lady Fjorgyn, you are released back to your lands in Vanaheim. I’m sure you’re much needed there, after this hell. Father, I thank you for your years of guidance and advice but it is time to stand on my own. Leave us.”

“Thor…” the All-Father started, in a pleading tone but Jane stood from her seat.

“Your King has spoken, All-Father. You are dismissed,” she interrupted him regally, and he shot her a look of undiluted hatred through his single eye. Jane met it without blinking in the face of such malice, as Lady Fjorgyn swept out, weeping, without a word.

“She will destroy you, boy,” the All-Father snarled. “She’ll destroy everything if you let her. You’ll regret this, mark my words!”

He stormed from the room, leaving the royal couple in silence, as Fandral exited discreetly. Jane knew the story of her triumph would soon be all over the court, and she sighed in relief and delight as she slumped back down into her chair. She felt a hand on her abdomen and looked up to see Thor, bent over her with sad eyes despite the smile on his face. Wordlessly, she hugged him, offering comfort while her eyes strayed to the shadows. And saw Loki there, applauding her silently, with a mischievous twinkle in his, eyes from the darkness.

* * *

 

Things soon began to settle down after the departure of Lady Fjorgyn back to Vanaheim, and the All-Father to estates he owned in the mountains of Asgard, there to brood in isolation and silence.

Jane’s standing in the court rose tremendously, the courtiers both baffled and awed by the audacity of their Midgardian Queen in sending away the deceased Queen’s mother and the former King. Her son was brought to court and Jane held him in a warm embrace for the first time. Darcy came to Asgard with her children, and the three played together in the gardens under Darcy and Jane’s gimlet eyes. Darcy and Thor eagerly renewed their friendship and to Jane’s delight, the old law forbidding mortals to come to the Realm Eternal was repealed.

Their relationship began to mend, as he listened more and more to her advice, after confessing that he had begun to suspect that a new approach was needed. That maybe, it was time for change.

Thor recognised he was no diplomat, of course, and commended the task to Jane and Darcy, and together they began working with the ambassadors from the Nine Realms, including Earth, to find a compromise they would all accept.

In the meantime, Jane’s pregnancy progressed. She was struggling more than the last two, but she refused to complain. It felt like the baby sapped her of strength and energy, but she refused to give in, even if it meant she fell into bed at the end of each day exhausted to the point of collapse.

Throughout the following months, Jane felt Loki’s watchful presence, always. He never revealed himself to her again after their tryst at the hunting lodge but Jane never forgot it. Indeed, sometimes she wondered…

But it was impossible. He was dead.

* * *

 

The months passed, and Jane gave birth to a pale, dark-haired little girl with deep brown eyes. As she held her in her arms, she wondered what to call her. Both of her children had been given Asgardian names, but she wanted something different for her own little girl. Somehow, this little one felt more hers than the first two had.

Her heart was still broken over the death of her first daughter, but as she looked down into serious, unblinking brown eyes, she smiled, feeling her heart lighten.

Her son was delighted by the birth of a new little sister, while Darcy congratulated her warmly. Thor, however, looked over the child with an uneasy look.

“She looks like…” he trailed off, uncertainly. Jane’s heart seized, and she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly.

“My dad had black hair too,” she lied, smoothly. “That’s probably where it came from.”

Her father’s hair had been blonde, but there was little chance of Thor ever finding out her falsehood. He looked convinced, surer, as he looked down at the little one in his huge arms but as Jane looked up, and saw Loki standing watching from the shadows, she knew all too well she hadn’t convinced him, as he watched her daughter in Thor’s arms with a hungry look.

“I think I’ll call her Helena,” Jane announced suddenly, desperate to escape Loki’s knowing, piercing gaze, as she refocused on her husband. The assembled courtiers and Darcy all smiled and congratulated her, but Jane refused to lift her eyes from her daughter as Thor returned her to her mother’s arms, refused to meet the gaze of the one who forever watched her.

* * *

 

Life became ever more complicated after the birth of Helena. The brief respite had been simply the deep breath before the plunge.

Alfheim, Vanaheim and Earth were all attacked. The plague had returned, insidious and ever harder to fight, on Nornheim and Alfheim. Jane and Darcy’s work had suddenly become that much harder.

Tentatively, Jane had sent emissaries to Jotunheim and Muspelheim. While the Fire Giants wanted nothing to do with Asgard; after Laufey’s death, the Jotunns had become more amenable to a peace treaty with Asgard and the other Realms. They had heard of the bravery and prowess of the Midgardian Avengers and wished to meet such proud warriors. Jane had pulled them into her net with comparative ease.

It had taken far more work to convince the court, and Thor, of the necessity of Jotunheim’s involvement. Despite his experiences on Earth, Thor still found it hard to dispel the age-old racism which haunted him. But Jane was determined.

She would not fail.

Loki had watched Jane for over thirty years. To his surprise and reluctant pleasure, she’d become a true Queen of Asgard, a champion of freedom and democracy in a Universe which had still clung to the old ways. She had become an effective diplomat and politician, doing battle with words and smiles, drawing the begrudging admiration of everyone around her.

That day, watching her great triumph completed at last, he felt his dead heart thrill to the look in her eyes, as she sat on a high seat, crowned and gowned in softest gold, her waist-length hair like a cape of gold and ochre, as she watched Thor sign a new treaty with representatives from Earth, Alfheim, Niffleheim, Jotunheim, Vanaheim and Nornheim. The treaty gave sovereign autonomy to the Realms, free from Asgard’s political interference. In addition, it opened up a discourse on free trade and the sharing of knowledge and technology, and a military compact that if one Realm was threatened, the others were bound to defend it.

Loki detected Thor’s hand in that clause. An olive branch, perhaps, to appease the grumbling courtiers of the court.

But there was nothing they could do now. The All-Father was gone, his old ways defeated utterly by the towering, golden colossus of the Queen. For all the spiteful, vindictive rumours that continued to surround her, they were relegated to the shadows, none game to challenge her power over Thor and her allies in the other Realms. They could do nothing but mourn the death of the Realm Eternal as it began to change into something they did not recognise. But Jane, and the others from Earth, did and she was toasted that night on Earth and around the galaxy.

* * *

 

Loki watched her now, alone in her rooms after the ceremony, watching her reflection in the mirror. He wondered what she saw there now. Did she still see the dowdy, ruffled astrophysicist? Or had she been consumed entirely by the beautiful, cunning Queen of Asgard?

“I know you’re there, Loki,” she said suddenly, her voice soft as she undid her hair from its intricate style, dropping her cape to the floor.

“I came merely to congratulate you on your success,” he replied, his voice as equally as soft. “And what a success it is. No doubt, that military compact is going to keep me very busy in the years to come.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Jane snapped coldly, turning to face him. Loki chuckled, straightening from his pose against the door of the chamber, and gliding gracefully towards her. “I’ve found my way, at last. I’ve defeated every single one of my enemies, and I did it for me.”

“They thought you their puppet, they laughed and mocked you,” Loki agreed. “But you’ve triumphed.”

“More than that. I am free, at last,” she retorted fiercely. “I am no one’s puppet anymore.”

“Oh, Jane,” he sighed. “Do you still believe that your newfound power will bring you freedom? How naïve you still are…”

Jane eyed him coldly, before turning away. “Why are you here, Loki?” she asked pointedly. She gasped as ice-cold arms slid around her waist, pulling her back into his embrace.

“As I said, to congratulate you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck, full of desire for this impudent mortal who had so challenged him, stimulated him and defied him for so long. He was ever more determined to make her his. “Dance with me.”

He spun her around, into his arms, and they revolved slowly to a music only they could hear, lost in the other’s eyes. “Little bird, you’ve flown at last,” he murmured sensually.

“And I fly _**alone**_ ,” Jane replied proudly.

“I could help you, Jane. There’s so much you do not know, so much you still have to learn. Let me help you,” he implored her, his arms tightening around her waist.

“I don’t need your help or your guidance,” she shook his head. “I accomplished this, on my own. Now leave me alone!”

“Never,” he growled. “You belong to me, Jane. Too soon you will learn that all your hopes and dreams will just come crashing down. You’ve gained Thor’s respect and deference but lost his love. Even now, he is with Sif instead of with you. Your children never see their mother, so consumed by power have you become. You have grown but you have lost so much. What happened to that little astrophysicist, who was so free, so wild, so untamed?”

Jane felt a jolt at having her suspicions about Sif and Thor confirmed, but she pushed it aside. The old her would have cried and raged, but a slow, sly smile overtook her mouth.

“You’ve just given it back to me. If I am so powerful, I may do as I wish,” she replied, seeing a cruel smirk in Loki’s eyes. “If Thor has strayed, I need be his faithful wife no longer. I am free.”

“And what of your children?” he asked candidly. “Will they suffer for your freedom?”

“My son is nearly grown. Soon, he will be too busy learning the business of being a King to want me,” Jane replied dismissively. “Helena will come with me.”

Loki shook his head. “It could be so simple, Jane,” he began beguilingly, pulling her closer to him. “We’re more similar than you’d want to admit. You’re as bound to me as I am to you. You yearn for the freedom you know I can provide. You’re lonely and unfulfilled by Thor’s love, even by your children’s. You would not be so with me. Come with me, Jane, and be free.”

“However much I may yearn for freedom, you ask a price I can’t pay,” she breathed, her eyes sad and soft now, her pride asleep for the moment. “I admit…that I love you. I have loved you for longer than I was willing to accept. But I cannot go with you.”

* * *

 

Loki had leaned in to kiss her at her admission, but her strong little hand stopped him, pushing him away. She escaped his arms and turned her back to him, and he could hear her crying. “Leave me,” she whispered brokenly. Loki did as she bid, for once, not only leaving her sight but leaving her in fact, wandering the palace corridors aimlessly, his mind aflame with everything that had just happened.

If she loved him, why didn’t she come with him? Was life really so precious she refused to let go of it? When he’d been alive, he knew he would have felt the same, would have fought for it with every ounce of strength, and did not he desire the same freedom, the same power? Yet another sign they were so incredibly similar.

Loki had wandered in the shadows for decades now, uncertain of his future, blind to his true purpose, to any end in sight for his dark existence. He sensed Jane was his only hope of peace, but he didn’t know how to seize it without destroying her.

He sighed, closing his eyes, when he heard the sound of crying. A voice, calling for his mother.

The little Prince.

Loki watched him with just a shade of pity, at the young boy curled up in his bed, calling for his mother after a nightmare, but she would not come. She was too consumed by the darkness of her own existence to realise her only son was succumbing to it too. The boy was more Jane than Thor, that was certain. He wondered if the girl that had died would have been a closer reflection of her sire. She had certainly looked it, with her golden locks and fevered blue eyes that Loki could remember even now.

* * *

 

After one final plaintive cry, Loki was moved to action. “She cannot hear you, little one,” he let himself become visible.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, without a trace of fear in his eyes as he looked at the dark figure beside his bed.

“A friend,” Loki replied, after a moment’s thought. “Do not fear, little prince. I will not leave your side.”

“I want my mother, but she never comes,” the boy murmured. “She only loves Helena.”

“That is not true, my boy,” Loki replied softly. He knew Jane did love her son, but all too often he reminded her of her long years of imprisonment, as she saw them, under the yolk of the scornful Lady Fjorgyn and the All-Father. She didn’t see the similarities between them, the same ache to discover the secrets of the Universe, the drive to gather knowledge and understand the mysteries of science. But she did love him, in her own way. “She does love you. But she is…a complicated woman. You’ll understand some day.”

The little Prince sighed, lying back down, dissatisfaction in his eyes. That look was so achingly alike Jane’s, that Loki caught his breath. Without thinking, the little boy reached out a hand to Loki’s, grasping it tightly despite the chill. “Stay with me?” he asked tremulously. “You’ll be my friend, won’t you?”

“I will never leave your side, little Prince,” Loki replied soothingly, stroking his hair. “I will always be here. You need just call for me and I will hear you.”

As he sat there in the dark with the sleeping boy, a slight smile quirked the lips of the trickster, as he considered what he knew was coming. While Jane mourned the final death of her marriage, and her son mourned the loss of his mother, Loki smiled.

* * *

 

It had been hundred of years since Jane had set foot on Asgard.

After learning of Sif and Thor’s affair, she had left Asgard with only a note of warning, taking Helena with her. She ached to take her son as well, but that would not have been permitted. A Princess was one thing, but taking the Crown Prince of Asgard would have ensured she was hunted down and forced to return.

She ignored Thor’s pleas for her to return, hardening her heart. She returned to Earth for a little awhile, continuing to revolutionise Earth science with everything she’d learned in Asgard, finally creating a working Bifrost for Earth’s use. In the interim, Darcy had passed away at the grand old age of 99, and her two children were now great-grandparents themselves. Jane had mourned the death of her last friend for years. Loki had never shown himself after that day, and Jane didn’t know whether to take that as a sign he’d been the one to take her or not.

When she heard of Lady Fjorgyn’s death, she felt no sadness. She felt a slight pang when she heard of the death of the All-Father; two hundred years after she’d fled Asgard, for Thor’s sake but it only put the final seal on her victory. Even after her departure, the All-Father had not returned to advise his son.

Helena had grown into an intoxicatingly beautiful, fiercely intelligent young woman, Jane was fiercely proud of her and the quiet independence that she’d learned from her mother. Thoughts of her son had crossed her mind over the years, but all the reports she’d ever heard had been promising and they had exchanged letters sometimes.

After leaving Earth, Jane and Helena had travelled widely, cataloguing various astronomical phenomena and experimenting with the known limits of science. Jane had felt a hot thrill at being able to practice her first love, astrophysics, again for the first time in centuries.

Nevertheless, she felt a constant restlessness, a dissatisfaction with her life. The freedom she yearned for was still out of reach. She longed for Loki’s touch, his company, his voice, even his kiss but pride kept her mute. She would not call for him.

But she was tired. She was glad that humans did not have access to the Apples of Idunn, even now. She was so tired and so old, she was not meant to live this long. Hope had long died in her heart, and no matter how much she buried herself in her research, she was tired. She longed for oblivion.

An uneasy peace had settled over the Nine Realms after Jane’s triumph. Eventually though, it had exploded once more into war as hordes of Skrull and Chitauri attacked Asgard, Earth and Vanaheim as the strongest of the Realms. The other Realms had held true to the military compact and aided them, but the war was now a constant, ongoing battle. Jane was no warrior, she had no place in that field, so she felt no guilt at not being in Asgard.

She knew her safety was worried for, but she refused to return to the gilded cage that awaited her.

But one day, she had no choice.

* * *

 

She was on Alfheim when a messenger rushed to her house there. It was from Thor and Jane’s hands trembled as she read its contents. Her son had fallen in battle. He had charged the enemy against the orders of the other generals and Thor himself, and had fallen at the hand of a Fire Giant. He begged her to return to Asgard one last time, for his funeral.

Jane and Helena returned at once. The court of Asgard was solemn and silent as they were escorted through the once golden halls to Thor’s chambers. Jane held her head up high despite the scornful, cold looks of the courtiers, Sif especially.

But Jane held the knowledge that, despite everything, she was still Queen and Sif was not. No matter how hard Jane had tried to escape that title.

The moment she had seen Thor, looking tired and old despite his youthful appearance, all their old resentments and arguments had dissipated and he had embraced her tightly, before crying in their daughter’s arms. Helena would have to remain on Asgard now, as the heir apparent now the Crown Prince was dead. Jane was uncertain how she would take the announcement, but Helena appeared calm and resigned. Jane would miss her travelling companion but she knew Helena truly had no choice, unlike Jane. She could not escape who she was.

Later that night, at sunset, Jane stood shrouded in mourning black and blue, her face veiled, as she watched the boat bearing her son’s burned body set adrift. His ruined face had been covered with a golden veil but Jane had pressed a kiss to his melted brow without fear, crying behind her veil. She had failed him, she knew it. He was too like her, too unlike Thor, and it had been his incessant need to prove himself worthy, instilled by his tutors and teachers since his earliest days, that had killed him. He had charged when Thor and his warriors had deemed it too risky to do so. And now he was dead.

Jane could not find it in herself to be angry at Thor, or Sif, or any of them. She couldn’t be angry even at herself, for her failure with her son, as she stared at the tiny golden boat, now aflame after the arrow had been loosed. Her broken heart was now shattered beyond repair.

With a shiver, she felt a familiar presence at her shoulder, a cold hand placed comfortingly at her collarbone. “Is he alright?” she breathed, desperately. Helena and Thor stood beside her, but they could hear nothing.

“He is at peace now,” Loki whispered, and Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “You are changed, Jane. Gone is your pride, your triumphant delight. You are old, tired. Do you desire death?”

“Yes,” Jane sighed, but the hand tightened and then released her and as she turned, she saw the cruelty in his eyes. Her punishment for her pride and refusal to go with him.

“It will come soon enough,” he whispered, as he faded from sight. “But I no longer want you, I no longer need you,” he lied as he watched the tears glide silently down Jane’s still youthful cheek. “I will not give you release before your time. Goodbye, Jane.”

As he disappeared from her sight, Jane wanted to scream but she no longer had the strength to do so. She watched him go numbly, before returning her gaze to the burning boat on the horizon of the sea.

* * *

 

Despite his words, Loki never stopped watching Jane. He never left her side, unseen and unheard, as he waited impatiently for her punishment to be over and for her life to end. It would be soon now, he was certain of it. She would not live to see the end of her five thousand years. She would not even reach a thousand.

Jane remained in Asgard now, but she wandered the Realm freely while Helena learned the art of ruling. She was a capable politician, his daughter, and he felt his heart swell with pride. He knew not how it had happened, him being dead technically, but it had and he had never thought he would know paternal pride. But he did, for her, his daughter.

She would be a capable Queen when her time came.

Thor was openly with Sif now, and while Jane held precedence as she always would, the court bowed to the warrior. Jane rarely came to court now, spending her days riding recklessly through the countryside or talking with a select few, Fandral, Eir or Heimdall.

But the time was fast approaching.

* * *

 

There had been dissent with the reforms and treaties championed by Jane in the early days of her reign, after she’d destroyed the hold of the All-Father and Lady Fjorgyn, but that dissent had blossomed into a full blown political movement calling for a return to the old glories and martial dominance of the Realm Eternal. It had focused its hatred on Jane and assassins now shadowed her steps, just waiting for their opportunity.

It came, one day in Spring, when she was taking a walk through the city with Helena and only a few guards. The crowd was jostling for glimpses of the Queen and her daughter, when it surged forward and a masked assassin lunged for her.

Jane felt the dagger go between her ribs, and as she fell to her knees, she heard only dimly the screams of fear and alarm. “For the All-Father and for Asgard,” the assassin muttered venomously, before he was dragged away from her by guards and Helena rushed to her side.

“Mother!” the young woman tried desperately to stem the bleeding, but Jane knew it was pointless. The dagger was poisoned, she could feel it curling like smoke in her veins and arteries, dulling her senses, slowing her heart until it barely beat. She would be dead in moments.

She welcomed it.

“Don’t, Helena,” she gasped, as she lay back on the dusty ground. “It’s no use, it’s poisoned. I am glad of it.”

With a shudder, Helena watched as Time seemed to slow and stop, and then a chill overcame her as she turned on her knees to see the figure approaching, dressed in black leather, tall, dark and inhumanly beautiful.

Helena had always known she was not the daughter of Thor. She knew too, that somehow Thor sensed it too, and as she watched the figure walking towards her, she knew. This creature was her true father, her blood, somehow.

“Loki…” her mother breathed. “You’ve come for me?”

“Yes, my love,” he replied, looking only at the woman lying on the ground. Helena turned her head to her mother’s gaze, but she gasped. On the ground lay her mother, unmoving and pale, but beside her stood a woman in jeans and a plaid shirt, her hair unbound and soft as caramel, her amber eyes shining. Her mother as she had been, once. “The veil has fallen,” Loki continued softly. “It’s over now.”

“Please,” Helena wet her dry lips, feeling warmth steal over her as her father’s eyes turned to her and she saw the pride and love in them. “Take care of her. Give her peace.”

“I will,” he promised her solemnly, as he held out his hand to Jane pleadingly. “If she’ll let me.”

Jane suddenly laughed and ran to Loki’s arms, throwing hers around his neck. Helena heard the body beside her, whose hand she clasped, give one final gasp, a death rattle, as the Jane before her pressed a kiss to Loki’s lips, forceful and passionate, as they faded from sight.

One last time, Helena felt her mother’s kiss on her forehead as her voice echoed in the frozen air, as Time restarted and life resumed. “Never fear, my little Helena. I’m with your brother now and your father and I will see you again. One day, when it’s your time. Until then, my daughter, live and do it better than I did. Live, my daughter.”

Jane and Loki stood in that mist-filled netherworld, staring at the veil. Jane was loath to leave Loki’s arms, knowing that she had to go through the veil alone.

But then, Loki gasped as she stared at him, and it was suddenly like he could breathe again, an invisible chain falling from his limbs. “You’re free?” Jane asked, sensing what had occurred. “You’re coming with me?”

“I promised you, didn’t I?” he returned archly, making her laugh as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. “You belong to me.”

As they walked towards the veiled archway, joy and relief in their hearts, Jane’s eyes shining, she replied archly, “I belong to me.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” Loki replied, his eyes laughing and no longer shadowed, as they stepped through the veil and into eternity.

* * *

 

_ **Finis** _

 

 

 


End file.
